


The Hardest Tasks

by Romiress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is helpless, Comedy of Errors, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Bruce asks for Clark's help. Clark doesn't know what he's getting into.





	The Hardest Tasks

When Bruce calls and asks for help, Clark drops what he's doing. For one, Bruce doesn't usually need his help, and he's happy to do what he can.

For another, Bruce  _ never _ asks for help. Clark can count the number of times he's asked for help on one hand, and all of those involved world ending threats.

So he's more than a little thrown off when Bruce asks to meet him after work, and he's even  _ more _ thrown off when Bruce shows up in yet another new car, pulling right up in front of the Daily Planet.

Clark lets himself in, because that's what you  _ do _ , but he doesn't bother trying to hide his confusion.

"Where's the suit?" He says, because Bruce is in  _ a _ suit, but it's definitely not the batsuit.

Bruce squints at him.

"This isn't one of those things," Bruce says. "I just need your help."

Bruce very firmly does not elaborate any further until they pull up to a grocery store, parking right near the back.

Clark feels like they just rolled into an entirely different dimension, and he looks at Bruce like he grew a second head.

"What are we doing here?" He asks, no longer able to stop himself from asking questions.

"It's Alfred's birthday," Bruce says. "I told the boys I'd get a cake."

"You need... a birthday cake," Clark says. "For Alfred."

He feels  _ deeply _ confused by the entire thing. He rarely has any idea what Bruce is thinking, but in this particular case he feels like he has even less of an understanding.

"Yes," Bruce says, as if that explains everything.

"And you need my help."

"Yes."

"...Why?" Clark finally asks. Bruce scowls at him, like Clark's making fun of him, which really just comes across as sort of adorable. Like he's sulking.

"I... don't know what I'm supposed to do," Bruce finally says. "And attempting to handle this alone risks... embarrassing myself."

Clark can't decide if the situation is hilarious or precious.

"Alright," Clark says, trying his very best to be serious. "We can just take this one step at a time."

Really, he's pretty sure the entire process is two steps. Step one: Find cake. Step two: Buy cake.

It's really not a complicated process.

And yet  _ somehow _ , Bruce manages to make it very complicated. He looks to Clark for literally every single thing, and Clark has to make apologetic noises towards the multitude of people thrown off by Bruce's presence in the store. Some of them recognize him. Some of them are too busy gawking at everything Bruce does.

Clark's told people a million times that  _ other people don't pay nearly as much attention to you as you think, _ and yet Bruce is proving him wrong because  _ everyone _ is staring at Bruce.

They stare as Bruce gets distracted by the sugary breakfast cereals, pointing out that they have  _ Reeses as a cereal, Clark, isn't that a chocolate bar? _ And then he ends up wandering down the baking good aisle and Clark has to round him back up, informing him that no, they don't hide whole cakes in with the cake mixes.

It takes almost ten minutes to get Bruce to the bakery section.

Clark wants to say that Bruce is worse than a child, but every single child he knows can manage groceries better than Bruce can. He was able to do chores like that when he was  _ eight,  _ back in Smallville, and Bruce Wayne is a  _ grown man, _ and yet somehow even when they get to the bakery he starts wandering off.

Clark has to grab Bruce's arm and haul him back to the bakery, where a very confused looking teenage girl is staring at them.

"He needs a cake," Clark says, not trusting Bruce to actually order himself. "Can it please say 'Happy Birthday Alfred'?"

"Do you have a flavor in mind...?" She asks.

Bruce looks like she just asked him to disarm a bomb.

No, scratch that. Bruce would look calmer if he'd been asked to disarm a bomb.

"Vanilla is fine," Clark says.

The worker grabs a big slab cake and vanishes into the back to write on it.

"How do you do this?" Bruce asks, sounding exhausted.

"Easily," Clark says. "You're just... very out of your element."

"But these are... these are normal things, right? Everyone does this?"

"Everyone can do this, yes," Clark confirms. No point in lying about it.

Bruce makes a face.

_ "You _ do this?"

"Yes," Clark confirms, and then changes his mind. "No."

"No?"

"I make my own."

"You  _ make your own cake?" _ Bruce asks. For some reason he sounds  _ horrified, _ like he never even considered the idea.

"Ma has a good recipe and it's not hard to do. Just takes some time."

"But... how do you..." Bruce trails off, and Clark decides he is  _ not _ about to explain baking to Bruce.

"Ask Alfred," Clark says. "I'm sure he can walk you through it."

Bruce wrinkles his nose at the idea, at which point the worker appears, cake in arms. Bruce is already getting his wallet out.

"No," Clark says. "We take the cake up to the front, and pay up there."

Bruce puts the wallet away, looking annoyed, and Clark mumbles an apology to the confused girl behind the counter as he takes the cake.

He barely manages to corral Bruce up to the front of the store, keeping him from wandering off. Clark doesn't dare risk the self checkout, and nudges Bruce into line, boxing him in and letting him get distracted by things beside the cash.

Bruce squints at a  _ secret identity of Batman revealed! _ Tabloid, and Clark sighs, scooting Bruce through the line as it advances. He supposes he should be thankful that Bruce at least is aware enough that he shouldn't be shoving through the front of the line, but when he gets up to the debit machine he stares down at it in confusion.

"Bruce," Clark says desperately, "please tell me you know how to manage that."

Bruce very obviously does not, and Clark is forced to take the card from him, sliding it into the card reader.

"Just follow the prompts," Clark begs.

Bruce does, and Clark mumbles apologies to the people behind them in line.

"You have the cake," Clark says as he drops it into Bruce's arms, pushing him out of the store. In terms of trips to the store, this is by  _ far _ the most stressful one of his life.

"I have the cake," Bruce confirms, staring down at it.

They make it all the way to the car before Bruce throws a wrench into things, staring down at the cake.

"...Maybe I should get a second?"

Clark wants to scream.


End file.
